Killer Plan (25 page)

66

After telling Matthew to
stay put and not answer the door to anyone, Caroline ran down the drive and fumbled to unlock the car. Flinging herself behind the wheel, she turned the key in the ignition with a shaking hand. The engine purred into action straight away. She eased her foot off the brake and hurriedly manoeuvred the car away from the kerb. The other car was nearly out of sight by the time she set off in pursuit. There were no other cars driving along the side street where she lived. Having almost caught up with the inspector, she eased her foot off the accelerator to keep a discreet distance behind the other vehicle. She couldn’t afford to be spotted. Several times Caroline had driven to the police station complex in Hendon and waited outside the car park, hoping to see the other woman emerge. Sooner or later, she hoped the inspector would drive to Brian’s house. When that happened, Caroline wanted to be right on her tail, but so far she hadn’t seen her leaving the police station. This time the inspector had come to her. It was too good a chance to miss.

At the end of the road, the inspector turned left onto Ballards Lane. Caroline hesitated to follow her too closely, and missed a gap in the traffic. Fretting about losing her target, she waited impatiently for another chance to turn onto the main road. The inspector wasn’t driving especially fast. Even so, it was difficult to stay on her tail. Caroline couldn’t stay directly behind her without risking discovery. What with anxiety about losing sight of the inspector, and fear of being seen, she was so stressed she had to make a conscious effort to drive sensibly. The knuckles on her hands looked almost white, she was clutching the steering wheel so tightly. She was feeling sick, but she had no choice other than to continue the terrifying journey. Convinced Brian had kidnapped Ed, she was desperate. Her only chance of discovering where he lived was to follow the inspector. Waiting at home doing nothing was driving her insane. Her plan to follow the inspector around might fail, but she couldn’t think what else she could do.

It was quite likely the inspector was headed to another destination entirely, but if she wasn’t going to Brian’s house now, then she might do so later. Caroline determined to stay on her tail until the inspector led her to the house where she was convinced Ed was being held captive. The police didn’t believe her when she told them Ed had been kidnapped. She had no alternative but to take matters into her own hands. She would never normally have had the guts to chase a police car through the streets of London. At every second she was afraid the inspector would slam on her brakes and demand to know why she was being followed. But more terrifying than the prospect of being challenged was her fear of losing sight of the inspector.

The car she was following drew to a halt outside a house just a few streets away from where Caroline lived. Edging into a parking bay a few spaces away, Caroline sat hunched over her steering wheel, shaking. Her relief at having reached the end of the journey was so strong she wanted to cry. The inspector climbed out of her car and crossed the road. Tense with hope and fear, Caroline watched her walk up to a front door. She paused on the doorstep, apparently talking on her phone. While the inspector was hanging back, Ed might be locked up, hungry or in pain. He was bound to be frightened. Under her breath, Caroline cursed the inspector for being so slow. At last she reached out and rang the bell. Caroline held her breath.

For a long moment, no one came to the door. Tormented by anxiety, Caroline sat, waiting helplessly. The chances were that she had followed the inspector to a house that had nothing to do with Brian. She could be visiting a friend, or a family member, or following up a lead in another case entirely. Caroline’s hands dropped from the steering wheel. She crossed her fingers. It was equally possible that Ed was in there, out of sight, concealed inside that house, behind those brick walls. She stared keenly at each of the windows in turn, willing Ed’s face to appear. Darkness gaped back at her, giving nothing away.

She seemed to have been waiting for hours when the front door finally opened. Whoever was in the house remained obscure, shielded by the caller. Caroline shifted in her seat, trying to see past the inspector. As though to accommodate her, the detective moved to one side to reveal a man with a head of straggly ginger hair. From that distance Caroline couldn’t make out the man’s face, but she could see enough to know that the inspector was talking to Brian. They stood on the doorstep for a few minutes. Finally the police inspector followed Brian inside the house and the door closed behind them.

‘Find my son,’ Caroline whispered. ‘Come back out with my son. Don’t you dare come out without him.’

At last the inspector emerged, tall, dark and elegant. She was alone. Numb with disappointment, Caroline watched her stride across the road to her car, and drive off down the road. Ed wasn’t with her, but Caroline had discovered where Brian lived. No longer worried about being spotted, she sat up and watched the other car vanish into the night. The inspector had brought her to Brian’s house. All at once, she felt a wild excitement.

67

Brian Stanbury lived six
blocks away from Caroline’s road. The fact that he lived so close to Caroline meant it was quite likely they had bumped into one another recently. That might have given her the idea to use his name to throw the police off the scent if she herself was guilty of some wrongdoing. Geraldine was convinced she was hiding something, she just couldn’t tell what it was. And at the centre of Caroline’s secrecy, a small boy had disappeared.

After Nick’s death, they had all been warned to be especially careful. There was a possibility that someone was targeting police officers. Under normal circumstances, such a warning would have been unnecessary because Geraldine was usually deliberately conscious of her surroundings. Distracted by the investigation, she hadn’t been as alert as usual. Walking down the path, she noticed a car parked opposite. Someone was seated at the wheel, and was watching her. With a shiver, she hurried to her car. Nick had believed someone was following him shortly before he died. Now it seemed to be happening to her. When she looked up again, the figure had vanished.

She drove away fast. There was only one other car travelling along the side road where Caroline lived. For a few moments it appeared to be following her, but when she turned onto the main road she lost the other car in traffic before she could see its registration number. She wasn’t sure whether she ought to report the incident, but decided to wait and see if she noticed anything else suspicious. So far she had no grounds for her paranoia, apart from a general awareness of the need for increased vigilance.

The man in the doorway raised his eyebrows inquisitively without speaking. His face relaxed into a tentative smile when she identified herself.

‘How can I help you?’ he asked in soft, cultured tones.

He was skinny, and his fair complexion was pock-marked from past acne. With pale watery eyes, and light ginger hair, he wasn’t good-looking, but his gentle voice inspired confidence. At least he hadn’t reacted aggressively to her presence on his doorstep. Increasingly, members of the public were hostile when the police came calling. Older officers grumbled about the lack of respect they were shown. In some areas the situation had become so volatile members of the force were reluctant to make house calls on their own. The change in the public perception of the police was an issue that exercised the higher powers within the force but, as in all the services, it was the officers on the ground who bore the brunt of the dwindling deference they were accorded on the streets.

Brian appeared to entertain a healthy old-fashioned respect for her position.

‘I’d like to ask you a few questions. May I come in?’

He hesitated for only a second before nodding his head. Walking quickly, he led her to a small kitchen at the back of the house. When they were both seated, Geraldine brought up Caroline’s name. Initially he looked puzzled, then he nodded in recognition.

‘Oh yes, Caroline,’ he said. ‘We were at school together, but it was all a long time ago. I haven’t seen her in years – that is, I hadn’t – and then we bumped into each other in the park the other day. I recognised her straight away!’ He smiled fleetingly. ‘But what’s this about? I really hardly knew her. We just happened to be in the same class at school. Longer ago than I care to remember – it must be more than twenty years ago. It was only chance that we happened to meet again, after so long. Why? Has something happened to her? I’m sorry, I’d like to help, of course, but I can’t see how I can. We were only children. I don’t know anything about what she’s up to these days, or what happened to her after we left junior school.’ He paused, thinking. ‘She had some children with her the other day, so she might have changed her name since I knew her, got married I mean. She was Caroline... no, I’m sorry, I can’t remember her surname at school. It was a long time ago.’

‘Caroline gave me your name.’

‘Did she?’ He looked perplexed, but not at all worried. ‘Why?’

He smiled and put his head slightly on one side, waiting for her to respond. He was intrigued. Geraldine hesitated. Apart from a pipe creaking and gurgling somewhere above their heads, the house was silent. It was hard to believe a healthy ten-year-old boy was being held prisoner there against his will. She pressed on, unsure of her ground.

‘Caroline has lost one of her sons.’

‘Oh dear. How did he die?’

Geraldine explained that Ed had disappeared.

‘You mean he’s gone missing? That’s awful,’ he stammered, visibly shocked. ‘Poor Caroline. What a terrible thing to happen. I thought her children were quite young – too young to run away from home. But it seems kids grow up so fast these days. The influence of television, perhaps? But how can I help?’

‘We have reason to believe the boy’s been kidnapped.’

‘Kidnapped? Are you sure? He couldn’t have fallen and hurt himself, or lost his memory? Because who would do such a thing? I mean to say, I didn’t get the impression she had much money, but then you can’t always tell, can you? I suppose you’ve contacted all the hospitals, and searched everywhere? If she lives round here, well, there’s a park just a few streets away…’

Geraldine nodded. A search party had been deployed and another team was busy going door to door, asking if anyone had seen the missing boy.

‘We’re doing what we can.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you are. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you how to do your job. It’s just so shocking when anything like this happens to a child. I mean, it’s terrible when something bad happens to adults too, but somehow it seems worse to hear about crimes against children. But are you sure he hasn’t had an accident? What makes you suspect he was kidnapped? That’s not common around here, is it? I’ve lived here for over ten years and I’ve not heard of any children being kidnapped before.’

Geraldine shrugged. The only evidence that Ed had been kidnapped had come from Caroline, and she was hardly a reliable witness. Leaving aside the fact that she appeared to be distraught at her son’s disappearance, there was a chance she had levelled the accusation against Brian to divert police attention away from herself. If her son had discovered she had arranged her husband’s murder, bumping into a loner like Brian might have seemed like a godsend. Living alone, gentle, and amenable, he could be an ideal scapegoat. Having met Brian, Geraldine couldn’t help thinking it even more likely that Caroline was responsible for Ed’s disappearance. In seeking to silence her son, Caroline was hiding something. And it was pretty clear what that was.

‘I’m sorry to have troubled you,’ she said, getting to her feet.

She wondered whether she should ask for permission to search the house.

‘If there’s anything I can do…’

‘I’d like to have a quick look around, while I’m here.’

For the first time, he looked worried. ‘It’s all a bit of a mess,’ he said.

He led her from the kitchen through the hall to a small living room and dining room. Both were empty.

‘I’ve seen places that are far untidier than this,’ she assured him, and he smiled, relieved.

Upstairs was similarly empty. He pulled down a ladder so she could stick her head into the loft and shine her torch around. There was nothing up there except a few cardboard boxes.

‘Is there a shed in the garden?’

‘No. You can see the garden from in here.’

As he led her back into the main bedroom, his phone beeped.

‘Oh no,’ he burst out, sounding exasperated. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, but I need to go out. I’m supposed to be meeting someone. You’re welcome to come back and look around some more another time, although I don’t know what you’re hoping to find here.’ He shrugged, almost dismayed that he had nothing to show her.

‘That won’t be necessary.’

They went back to the hall. Glancing around, she noticed a small door under the stairs. Visions of Harry Potter’s bedroom flashed into her mind.

‘What’s in there?’

He grew jittery, and glanced at his watch.

‘That? Oh, that’s just the broom cupboard. You can look inside if you want to. It won’t take a second. But then I really do have to go.’

He gave a shamefaced shrug and muttered something incoherent about going on a blind date. Quickly she stepped across to the door and pulled it open. With a glance she took in a hoover, broom, dustpan and brush, ironing board and iron. She closed the door.

‘I told you it wasn’t very interesting,’ he said, almost apologetically.

He was sweating slightly, anxious not to be late for his date.

‘Thank you, Mr Stanbury. I won’t keep you any longer.’

She considered wishing him good luck on his date, but decided to maintain a professional detachment. He had been embarrassed enough by her intrusion.

68

The crash of the
slamming front door reverberated in his ears. Brian stood in the hall, staring at the discoloured wallpaper, shaking with fury. After all he had done for Caroline, it was hard to believe she had let him down so badly. Disregarding his warnings, she had gone blabbing to the police. He had been a fool to trust the bitch. Not after this. He glared around wildly. He would have to leave the house before the police came back. He didn’t trust that detective. Whatever she had said, he knew he hadn’t seen the last of her.

Still trembling, he raced upstairs into the spare room and found his suitcase, dusty and brown, at the back of the cupboard. He had been afraid his wife might have thrown it away. As he yanked it out, a faint mist of dust rose from it, making him sneeze. In the doorway he turned his head to look back over his shoulder. The spare room looked empty without the boy there. He felt a pang of loneliness, but this was not the time to hang around feeling sorry for himself. He had to get out of there quickly, before the police returned. Fighting to control his panic he ran into his own bedroom, flung the case on the bed and opened the wardrobe. Hurriedly selecting clothes, he folded them quickly and stuffed them in. The case had wheels which meant he would be able to cram it full and still be able to drag it around with him. Ignoring anything formal, he packed jeans, shirts and jumpers. With no idea where he was going, he had to be prepared for all climates. He wouldn’t be able to take much with him apart from clothes but that didn’t matter. Most of the stuff in the house had belonged to his wife. He had no need of her clutter.

A thought struck him and he hurried downstairs to fetch his spare trainers. Shirts and trousers would be easy to replace, but he had no idea if he’d be able to buy comfortable shoes where he was going. If he could get to America, all well and good. He would be able to speak the language and buy whatever he needed. That said, he had to be prepared to end up anywhere. The more remote his destination, the less likely he was to be traced. Off the beaten track, decent shoes might be difficult to come by, even if he could explain his requirements. He pounded back upstairs and shoved his trainers in the bottom of the case, underneath his clothes. He pulled open the second drawer of his bedside cupboard. Passport, driving licence, even his birth certificate was there. He thrust them all into the black leather bag and put it down on the bed. It had a long strap that enabled him to wear it slung over one shoulder. That way he could keep his hand over it. He had bought it for travelling, back in the days when he was still married. His wife had laughed at him, calling it his ‘man bag’. He had never used it, but he was glad now that he hadn’t chucked it away. At last he closed his case and lugged it downstairs. It was time to go.

Now that he was ready to leave, he hesitated over whether to take the boy with him. He would miss his company if he left him behind, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that the boy had been difficult all along. He had never really settled, constantly whining and nagging to go back to his mother. The reality of their friendship had never lived up to Brian’s wishes. In common with everyone else Brian had ever met, the boy had disappointed him. Given time, things could have turned out very differently. Seduced by the idea that he and Ed might go travelling around the world together, Brian had done his best to establish good relations with the boy. But time had run out. Caroline had put paid to that. He had to abandon the idea, as he had done with so many other dreams.

He would have liked to deliberate for longer, but he had to make up his mind quickly. The only sensible option was for him to leave by himself. Apart from any other considerations, it was hard to imagine he could succeed in taking the boy out of the country without attracting attention. The police were bound to be looking for a man travelling with a ten-year-old boy. Going alone would enable Brian to get out of the country safely. Even if Ed agreed to accompany him quietly, it would be too risky. He paused in the hall and looked around for a moment. This house had been the scene of his only real happiness in life, and his most desperate grief. The walls resonated with the extremity of the emotions he had suffered while his wife was alive. It would be a relief to get out of there and start a new life somewhere else. He should have done so years ago. He took a deep, juddering breath and opened the front door. He had no idea where he was going. He only knew that he had to get as far away from the house as possible, before the police came back. He would leave, abandoning the property to the many species that lived there unseen, rats and mice under the floorboards, ants and woodlice that would crawl out of the skirting boards, spiders and beetles and other kinds of insects.

And the boy in the cellar.